


Take Me To Italy

by TheProfoundBlade



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon!Dean, Fun times outside of Hell, Hell, M/M, Making a mess, Master/Apprentice, Oops, garrisonbabe, medieval torture machines, someone died, tumblr writing prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 20:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3303170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheProfoundBlade/pseuds/TheProfoundBlade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demon!Dean wants to go have fun outside of the States, but Alastair is working under orders and has to keep him in Hell.. but Dean is so, so convincing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me To Italy

**Author's Note:**

> Saw this first and last prompt posted by Garrisonbabe on Tumblr and figured I should give it a go. Can't sleep anyway and were meant to draw, but hell, there's time for other creative things, right? 
> 
> I took the prompt;  
> first: we are not creating another international incident.  
> last: why do i go anywhere with you?
> 
> and ran with it. Hope it's a fun read. Not beta'd, obviously.

»We are not creating another international incident. «

Recently-revived Alastair rubbed his temples slowly with a single hand, head hanging a little low and eyes closed. This boy was giving him a headache and it was the last thing this demon wanted.

»Why the Hell not? Spice it up a little, huh? You can go anywhere you want and you sticklers choose to stay in the same ol’ States. I don’t get it.«  
»These are things you don’t have to concern your pretty little face with, Dean.«  
»I ain’t concerned, just wanna go out and have some fun. Eat some Dim Sum or somethin’, and not from the crappy Chinese place down the street.«

Alastair sighed deep and looked up over his pale hand, fingertips gently setting themselves on his cheekbones. After Dean came back as a demon, the second time around, it seemed he wanted to run amok but as far away from Sam as (in)humanely possible. Crowley had had to send a ‘rescue-squad’ to Madrid, Spain earlier that week, where Dean had been drinking locally brewed Absinthe and tearing up a few local churches, splitting some skulls in the process, causing outrage all over European news, claiming Dean was a psychotic religious murderer. They weren’t completely off, Dean had thought. When the rescue-squad finally found him, he had then been taken back to Hell and under Alastair’s care, to hopefully reign in this wild spirit.

»Don’t you think you’ve done enough? I bet Sam is already on a plane to Spain to find you.«  
»Great! Perfect! Then let’s head to Brazil, or hey - how about Nepal, huh?«, Dean said with a wide grin, opening his arms wide as he walked over to Alastair who was sitting, very comfortably, in a large office chair. The room was dimly lit and had an awful stench of pus and death, to no one’s surprise - it was Hell, after all - but the casual office-like setting made Dean wish even more he could go where ever he wanted. 

He reached the older demon’s side and dropped his arms to his sides rather loudly, turning his grin into a frown as Alastair simply shook his head very slowly from side to side.  
»Oh that’s right, you hate the cold.«  
»It’s not about the cold, Dean-« Alastair grunted, getting up from his seat and with a swift motion standing inches from Dean’s face, »it’s about you not being in control yet. Now, if I knew you were a perfectly capable demon with your loyalties straight, then I’d gladly let you country-hop, but...«

He dragged out the word as he stepped backwards slowly, lifting his head and holding eye contact with the younger demon in front of him. If he had to be honest, he’d prefer to get out of Hell for a while as well - the Pit was in decay after he had been gone for so long, hardly any order or respect for the torture craft, leaving Alastair with a lot of work to do since his return. But he was obligated to break Dean proper again, and the only place he could do so was in Hell.

»I am a fucking perfect demon, Alastair.« Dean growled, flicking his eyes to black and puffing his chest. »You know exactly what I’m capable off.«  
»Well, if you prove yourself to me Grasshopper, then maybe we can discuss it. For now you’re bound here, and we’ve got so much work to do with you.«

\----

A month had passed and Dean had not stopped pestering Alastair about a trip upstairs and overseas. He started baiting at Alastair’s interest for art and torture, trying to convince him to come along to Rome or really anywhere in Italy so they could check out the local medieval torture artifacts, maybe test some of them together when they found them. Alastair didn’t care for those old, simple toys, but as the workload increased and became harder to cope with as he was slicing up Dean most of the day, he almost felt he was in a sort of role reversal - fighting not to say ‘Yes’ to Dean’s tempting proposition.

With a snap of a finger, all of Dean got collected once more and his skin rinsed completely, leaving no traces of blood, cuts, bruises or soot. The young demon caught his breath after finally having functional lungs again, laughing chillingly after a few moments. 

»Getting impatient or somethin’? I mean you hardly broke a sweat this time,« Dean said with a smile, looking at his master’s back a few feet in front of him by the ‘toy-table’.  
»I don’t have time for your mockery Dean, I’m a busy man.« Alastair snarled, drying his bloody hands in a dirty rag before tossing it onto his shoulder.  
»You make time for me,« Dean hummed, »’cause you like me the best.« 

Alastair couldn’t deny that he was thrilled to have his boy back on his rack once more, but he had no chance to really enjoy it as much as he had the first time with all the work he had to do. He also couldn’t agree to Dean’s statement, because he knew it was part of the young demon’s plan of wooing him to go with him somewhere. He knew if he admitted to it, Dean would bend, break and snap on cue to appease Alastair and ultimately getting the ‘yes’ he wanted. Even if it would be fun, orders were orders and Alastair preferred not to defy them.

»Only spend so much time on you because I have to, Dean, don’t flatter yourself.«  
»Liar, liar, pants on fire...«

It was almost as if Dean had adopted all of Alastair’s mannerisms and used them against him, knowing it equally annoyed and enthralled the old demon. Alastair was glad all his hard work had stuck with Dean even to this day, but at this moment preferred that it hadn’t.  
Alastair gently picked up a decent sized knife, turning around to face Dean again and ran the edge of the blade roughly over the stubble on the young demon’s chin.

»You’re ever so tempting Dean, but I’m afraid this work has to be done before we can go on a holiday.«  
»Come on Al, live a little,« Dean almost whispered with a glint in his deep, black eyes, »I know you’d love to strap me on some old Judas Chair and see me split for you in real time. Or what about that Iron Chair? We could have a lot of fun on that, don’t you think?«  
»Dean...« Alastair sighed, tapping the end of the blade on Dean’s lips, effectively hushing him, »you know I prefer you keeping your voice, but if you keep this up I might have to go against that.«

Dean smiled under the blade and went silent, knowing he was getting closer and closer to convincing his master of a fun trip to the EU with him.

\-----

A few weeks later, Alastair was caught in his make-belief office, reading through awfully written reports and numbers from the Pit stating how many souls had been harvested and tortured, how much blood had been recycled and so on. He looked up briefly when a hard knock landed on the door, grunting an »enter« before returning his gaze to page 674 of the report on Hound Effectiveness Contra Standard Demonic Pick-up Missions. 

»Hey Master,« Dean greeted as he entered the room, black eyes catching the harsh yellow light above them, »got a minute?«  
»Does it look like it?« Alastair mumbled, throwing his pen in frustration and sitting back into his chair. He looked up to follow Dean sitting down across from him, biting his lower lip. Maybe it was time to say yes.

»Look, I know you don’t wanna hear about it anymore but I read ›bout this great place in Italy, little town called San Gimignano. They got a huge torture museum and-«  
»Yes.«

Dean held his breath for a moment and sat forward in his chair, leaning his head slightly sideways as if he didn’t hear it correctly.

»I’m sorry, did you just say-«  
»Yes, Dean. Let’s go. Right now, or I’ll change my mind.«  
»Fuck yeah!«

The young demon sprung from his seat and almost ran over to his master’s side. Alastair had stood up just as quick and as Dean made it over he grabbed him by the waist and teleported them swiftly upstairs to San Gimignano, Italy.

As they arrived it was nearing sundown, the air feeling thick and warm with a slight breeze. They had landed in an alley, only startling some poor pigeons who flew erratically out of the alley and towards the town center. Alastair released his grip around Dean’s waist, but Dean stayed close and looked up with a sly smile on his face.

»Knew I could convince you eventually.«  
»Better stay out of trouble boy or I swear to Lucifer,« Alastair hissed, starting to walk out from the alley with Dean following swiftly after.  
The town seemed very lively with laughter and cars driving slowly through the center, restaurants open and filled to the brim with locals and tourists. The sky was turning orange slowly and as Alastair stopped for a moment to observe it - after all, it was a rare sight for him - Dean grabbed his hand and pulled him swiftly towards the other side of the road, talking about the museum and how he hoped they were closed so he could break in. Apparently even the tiniest evil-doings did it for Dean these days.

They reached the museum which was indeed closed, making Dean almost buzz with excitement as he let go of Alastair and ran behind the old building. Alastair stood silently, looking to his sides to make sure no one was coming by, and as Dean shouted »Here!« he did another double take and quickly walked into the side alley to find Dean half-way through a broken window.

»You do realize I could have just ported us inside, right?« He sighed, crossing his arms assertively across his stomach. Dean stopped himself, eyes shifting from side to side for a little bit and shrugged after a while.  
»Guess I sorta forgot.«  
»I see.«

They made it in - Dean with shards of glass stuck in his jacket and Alastair porting in without an issue - and started walking through the halls of the well preserved torture machines, big and small. It was very silent between them, hardly any words spoken even when they came across some tools Dean had experienced downstairs. Alastair seemed content with just being away from the whole Hell-stress for a while, Dean excited he was upstairs again and actually enjoying his Master’s company that, for once, didn’t center itself around actual torture.

They had moved upstairs and found a large room with the Iron Chair stuck in the middle of it behind thick, royal red ropes, looking like a sick version of a King’s throne. Dean nudged Alastair on the side and quickly walked over to it, awkwardly stepping over the ropes and ran his fingertips across the still sharp spikes on the armrest. 

»It’s fascinating how the people of God truly were the most cruel, hm?« Alastair hummed, walking slowly around the chair, observing Dean.  
»Not really surprising. I mean the angels were dicks, so why would their believers be any different.«  
»Most of the tools were, of course, not just used by the Church. But some sure were.« 

Dean turned his head to see Alastair walking, smiling and retracting his black eyes. Alastair nodded and did the same with his white, blinking to reveal his iron blue eyes, still moving slowly around the Iron Chair. Just as Dean was about to speak, an old door got opened in a far corner of the large room, squeaking and cracking as it was clearly as old as the house itself. From the door walked a little, old man, carrying a newspaper and a cane. He looked up and saw the two demons who had stopped in their tracks, one looking more surprised than the other.

»Scusate signori , il museo è chiuso-«, the little old man said with a smile, lifting his cane to point towards the large door nearby. Alastair smiled and started walking towards it slowly, in the back of his mind remembering he wasn’t supposed to be there - nor were Dean - and would prefer if they stayed out of trouble. Just as he was about to pass Dean, the young demon jolted forward and with a roar assaulted the old man, grabbing the cane from him and starting to excessively beat him.

Moments later, Dean plunged the old, lifeless man on the Iron Chair and tried to catch his breath, black eyes beaming with power and blood splattered all across his face. Yet again Dean had made a mess, somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, but Alastair had been very impressed with the passion and energy the young demon had shown. The old man might have been very undeserving, yes, but his time might’ve been just around the corner anyway.

Alastair moved up behind Dean and planted his calm hands on the shoulders of his apprentice, shaking his head with a smile.  
»I’m going to get in so much trouble for this, Dean.«  
»They gotta find out it’s me first,« Dean laughed, looking over his shoulder to catch Alastair’s gaze, »this could’ve been any psycho. Didn’t carve any demonic symbols or some shit into him.«

The old demon laughed lowly and shook his head again, looking at the beautiful mess his boy had made, and before porting them back to Hell he said with a devilish smile,  
»Why do I go anywhere with you?«


End file.
